David McIntyre has been enjoying the heck out of his current assignment: touring the Hawaiian Islands in search of the ideal shooting locations for a series of film company projects. What’s not to like? Stunning scenery, great food, sunny beaches…and a secret crush on his hot, ex-Air Force pilot, Rick Sutton. Everything changes when a tropical storm and engine failure force a crash landing on a deserted atoll with a WWII listening post. Rick’s injuries, and a lack of food and water, make rescue imperative, but it takes an intensely vivid dream about the war to make David see that Rick is more than just a pilot to him. Will David gather his courage to confess his feelings to Rick—before it’s too late?

Like most writers, Sarah Madison was a story-teller as a child. She couldn’t help herself! She carried a grubby spiral notebook with her everywhere she went, filling it with stories about dogs and horses. When she reached the end of high school, however, she packed up all her creativity in a box and placed it on a shelf, to be stored with other childhood memories. She worked hard at her job and thought that being passionless was just what growing up was all about.
One day she woke up. She opened the box on her shelf and discovered much to her surprise, her passion was there, just waiting to be claimed again.
Now, writing sometimes takes precedence over everything else. In fact, when she is in the middle of a chapter, she usually relies on the smoke detector to tell her when dinner is ready.
To learn more, visit Sarah on her website, on Twitter, Facebook and Goodreads.

{Review by Thommie of MMGBR, for more of her reviews check out 'Thommie's Reviews' section on the blog}

** Guest Post from author Sarah Madison **

Writer’s Block: The Elephant in the Room

Most of us have experienced writer’s block at some point or
another. There are all kinds of courses
you can take to help you get through it, but the bottom line is very simple.
Writers write. So if you’re not writing, something is wrong. Here are some of
the things I’ve found that help me when the words stop flowing.

First, you have to learn to trust your instincts. There’s a
fine line between taking a break and falling out of the habit of writing.
Procrastination isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes when we are stalled
out on a story, it is because it needs to sit on the back burner for a while,
simmering to let the internal flavors come out.So if you find yourself taking a break from a WIP to work on something
else, don’t panic.

If, however, you find that day after day passes and you
can’t seem to bang out even a hundred words, it’s time to ask yourself why. Cut
yourself some slack if you are overworked, not getting enough sleep, or
battling a major health or family crisis. Emotional energy demands trump
creativity energy every time. As long as the situation isn’t long term (such as
being in a caretaker position for a loved one, or dealing with a chronic
illness), give yourself some breathing room and let it be. The words will come
back to you in time. If the situation looks like it will be long term, then you
must find a way to work within the new parameters of your existence. It isn’t
easy, but if you really want to write, you’ll find a way.

Sometimes when the story isn’t progressing, it is because
there is something inherently wrong with it. You’re trying to get your
characters to do something that isn’t right for them, or your basic premise
isn’t working. The hardest thing we as writers can ever do is determine that a
story is seriously flawed. Then we only have two choices: abandon it or gut it
and start over.

But what about the less dramatic kind of writer’s block? The
kind that just seems to prevent you from getting started. All day long you
daydream about your characters and what you plan to do with them, but when you finally sit down to write, you stare at
the blinking cursor. You let little things distract you. You find yourself with
a compelling need to check Facebook, or do laundry. Well, here’s what I do in that situation.

1)Determine
if the problem with the story or the scene or your level of creativity. Many
times we get stuck because a scene isn’t working. Well, write a different one!
There’s no law that says you have to write in sequence—in fact, I believe you
should write the way they film a television show—in scenes that can be ‘shot’
out of sequence.Write the scene that
you see the most vividly. You can always come back and stitch the isolated
scenes together. Don’t let your inability to finish one scene keep you from
finishing the story.

2)Have
some fun! Give yourself permission to play. So you spent all afternoon surfing
the internet to find pictures that inspire you or represent elements of your
story—so what? It counts. Ditto with research. Ditto with scenes you don’t end
up using. These elements all go into the background of the story—making the
details richer and fuller. Remember why you started writing in the first
place.Don’t be so serious! Write some
fanfic. Toss in every ridiculous trope you can think of in your story—you might
be surprised that some of it works.Stop
worrying about reviews or sales. Write the stories that you want to read.If you’re
lucky, there will be other people out there who want to read them too. Just
make sure that you aren’t always choosing to play over writing more in the WIP.
If you are, then something is wrong with that WIP. Figure out what it is.

3)Let
up on the pressure. This is a hard one for me. I’ll be honest, I don’t write
just for the fun of it. I am serious about being an author and I need the
writing to help pay the bills. But the more pressure I put on the writing to
‘succeed’ under these needs, the less fun I have with it. I have found out the
hard way that when I place what seems like reasonable goals on myself (one new
story a quarter), my brain becomes balky and shuts down. Never mind that I was already
writing a novella every month before—when I assigned a formal goal to myself,
my word count dropped to zilch. Ditto with NaNoWriMo. I know some people find
NaNo extremely liberating. The first time I tried NaNo it triggered my first
(and most serious) case of writer’s block. Obviously, it’s not for me. I’ve had
to accept that while writing gives me great pleasure and has contributed to my
quarterly income, I’m probably never going to be in the same league as those
who’ve made 50 million on their first book series. :-) Releasing myself from
the pressure to succeed has actually allowed me to be productive again. Yes, it
is hard to read about people who paid off their home mortgage by writing story
after story in a six week period. At some point, however, most of us have to
choose quality over quantity.Me, I hate
turning out a story that doesn’t live up to my standards.

4)Letting
up on the pressure doesn’t mean you stop writing, however.You must turn the faucet on if you expect
water to flow. It might be rusty at first and only come in dribbles, but the
more you work at it, the more easily the words will flow and eventually the
water will become clear. If the words simply will not come for your WIP, set it
aside. Work on something that catches your fancy. If you can’t think of a story
to tell, then retell a favorite movie or book from the viewpoint of characters
from a television show. Jot down a memory from your childhood every day for at
least ten days in a row. Paint word pictures of your favorite characters. Write
a movie or book review. Keep a daily journal but don’t share it on your blog or
online anywhere. This is the practice of writing, going through the motions of
translating thought into words through the medium of typing or writing longhand
or however you record your stories. This is like practicing scales on a piano.
It’s not meant for public consumption.

5)Which
brings me to the fifth suggestion: turn
off your browser. Shut down the internet. Put your phone in a drawer in the
other room. If you are in the midst of writing something and you realize you
need to check a reference online, mark it with an asterisk and move on. I don’t
know about you, but my online interactions with Facebook, and Twitter, and
tumblr, and Live Journal are like crack to me. I endlessly circle from one
website to another looking for someone to engage in conversation with me. Yes,
we need to interact with fans and friends. Yes, we need to pay it forward when
it comes to helping friends promote their work. Yes, everyone needs a little
George Takei and LOL cats to help them get through the day. But when you sit
down to write, just turn the darned thing off.

Writing is hard work. We all know
that. When we’re running on fumes and we come home from a tough day at work, it
is easier to get online and fritter away time in the name of ‘networking’ and
unwinding from the evil day job. Writing asks us to engage our brains on a higher
level than interacting with friends online or even writing blog posts. If you
find yourself choosing to use your precious writing time playing around online,
ask yourself why.

Above all, don’t give up. If you
are a writer, then writing is a compulsion that you can’t help but do. If it is
really your passion, you will find a way to do it. You can’t help it.

Excerpt from The Boys of Summer, (rated R for language): "I don’t think we’ve got much choice." Sutton’s voice was grim. "We’re lucky to have that much. Hold on, these trees are coming up faster than I’d like."

Still fighting to keep the nose of the plane up, Sutton guided the recalcitrant aircraft toward the so-called clearing, the ground rising up to meet them far faster than was comfortable. David found himself leaning back in his seat, bracing his hands on the console as the tops of trees scraped the underside of the plane. Branches swiped at the windshield, and David had the sudden impression of being in a car wash scene as written by Stephen King.

"Duck your head!" Sutton barked. "Wrap your arms around your legs!"

"And kiss my ass goodbye?" David shouted, raising his voice over the increasing noise as he obeyed Sutton’s orders.

Incredibly, Sutton laughed. It was an oddly comforting sound. Like everything was somehow going to be all right because Sutton was at the controls.

The moment of humor was gone in a flash. The plane screamed with the sound of tearing metal and the sharp, explosive crack of tree limbs and breaking glass. David kept his head down and his eyes closed, praying to a God he was pretty sure had more important things to do than to keep up with the well-being of one David McIntyre. Despite being strapped in his seat, his head and shoulder thumped painfully against the passenger side door as the plane thrashed wildly. There was a moment of eerie, blessed silence, and for an instant, the assault on the plane seemed as though it had lifted. Eye of the storm, David thought, just before the plane hit the ground.

Someone had left the window open and it was raining on him. How incredibly annoying. He shifted, intent on reaching for the offending window, when a jolt of pain ran through his shoulder and he gasped. When he opened his eyes, nothing made any sense at first. Then he remembered the crash, and realized that his side of the plane was pointing up at the sky. The rain was coming down in a steady stream through the broken windshield. The sound of the rain on the metal hull of the plane was nearly deafening.

He winced at the pain in his neck when he turned to look over at the pilot’s seat. Sutton was slumped to one side in his chair, unmoving. His sunglasses were hanging off one ear.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God," David murmured, hastily undoing his seatbelt so he could reach across to Sutton. His skin was cold and damp where David touched it, and adrenaline pounded through David’s veins as though he could jumpstart Sutton’s heart by sending his own pulse beating through his fingertips. "Sutton! Rick!"

David fought to free himself of his seat, twisting for greater access to the other side of the cockpit. When the seatbelt came open, he fell half across Sutton. Sprawled practically in his lap, David could now see the nasty cut on the left side of Sutton’s temple. The pilot’s side of the plane had taken a lot of damage, and David yelped as he encountered a sliver of glass. Bits of the windshield and console were scattered like confetti over Sutton’s jacket. "Sutton!" The lack of response was unnerving. He tossed aside the sunglasses and worked a hand down into Sutton’s collar, feeling frantically for a pulse.

He could have kissed the man when Sutton suddenly groaned.

"Rick, are you all right? Can you understand me?" David began feeling around for additional injuries.

"I could never understand you, McIntyre," Sutton said in a fair approximation of his slow drawl. Even the half-smile was a good imitation of his usual expression. "Who tours the toughest jungles in the South Pacific dressed to play golf?"

"Hah-hah, very funny, keep your day job. Oh, no, wait. Forget that. You’re not so good at the day job either." Relief made him almost giddy. They were going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay.

Until Sutton tried to move and caught his breath painfully.

"What, what is it?" David tried to reach down around the other side of him, to see what the problem was. He felt something wet, warmer than the rain coming in the windshield, and he pulled back his hand to stare at it in shock.

His hand was covered in blood. The metallic odor of it caught him unaware and almost made him gag.

"Shit," Sutton said mildly. "I seem to be stuck on something."

"Stuck?" David knew he was practically shrieking, but what the fuck was he supposed to do, miles from nowhere, with an injured man impaled on God knows what, who might die and leave him here all alone.

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